Because it’s a fucking honor.
5
“HOW’S CARRIE?” I ask Rookie, passing him the joint. We’re on my porch, Dirk’s porch, where we’ve seemed to end up every night since I got here.
“She’s good. Took a job travel nursing. I see her when I can.” The sadness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.
I nod, not really knowing what to say. “You ready for tomorrow?” We would be heading down to Texas to work our asses off for a week. It wouldn’t be an easy task considering we hadn’t done shit since I got here.
“I guess. I just hate dealing with those Spanish-speaking motherfuckers. I know they speak English. I think they just like making us feel stupid.” He passes the joint back to me, and I take a drag before knocking the cherry off and sticking the roach in my cut.
“Well lucky for you, I speak Spanish fluently.”
“Bullshit.”
“I swear, man. Ask me anything.”
“How the fuck I’m supposed to know if you tellin’ the truth or not? I don’t speak Spanish.”
I laugh, giving his shoulder a push that nearly knocks him off the porch. Making me laugh harder. “Seriously, man. I ain’t ever lied to you. Come on. Ask me something.”
He shakes his head, clearly annoyed with me. “You’re fucking high, Shady. Too high. You need to take your ass to bed.”
I am high. Maybe even too high. I’ve been doing that a lot lately. It’s easier to try and stay here when I’m under the influence. I tried to do it sober. That shit didn’t work. The depression seems to worsen when the reality that Dirk’s body is buried in the backyard hits me. It slams me right in the chest. Every fucking time.
I watch Rookie walk to his bike, the white threads of his cut no longer new. They are dirty and worn—a sign that he’d been doing his job.
“Hey, man, don’t leave,” I yell out. He’d stayed with me every night. And every night we did this. But we always wound up back at the clubhouse. This time I was hoping to finally confront my fears and actually walk through the door. Having Rookie here would help. And with him around, I managed to get some sleep even before the sun rose. Tonight I really need him, or else I’ll never make that ride tomorrow.
“I’m not fucking leaving. But if you call me ‘man’ one more time, I’m breaking your jaw.” He’s serious, but I still smile. “I got some company coming to the clubhouse tonight. I figured she might help you sleep,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Who?” Like it matters. They are all the same. They all feel the same, smell the same, and when I dare, they taste the same.
“Monica. So try to sober the fuck up. You’re getting on my nerves.” Even though he acts pissed, he gets me. He doesn’t take my shit, but he knows how hard it is for me to walk through the door of Dirk’s house. That’s probably why he told Monica to meet us at the clubhouse. And why he hasn’t rearranged my face yet. I’ve seen him fight. He’s good.
Rookie pulls me up from the porch—the bag he’d retrieved from his bike slung over his shoulder. I’m glad that nighttime is finally here. I hate looking at everything that reminds me of Dirk and Saylor. But the guilt of seeing it when I’m fucked up would be even worse. I didn’t want to disgrace this place. The first time Saylor walked through the door, she made it a sanctuary for her and Dirk. I wanted to keep it that way. But if I went in like this, I’d be failing. Miserably.
I stop at the threshold just as Rookie opens the door. The smell of citrus hits me in the face—the scent of Saylor. For a moment, I feel like I can do it. But it disappears just as quickly when I see that nothing has changed. The evidence of the last night Dirk and Saylor spent in this house still remains. Even after we’d buried Saylor, I’d sat silent on the couch next to Dirk while he stared blankly around the room—reliving her last moments over and over.
I sober slightly at the reminder of that night. Dirk’s last words echo inside my head. “She’d want you to have this.” My hand moves to Saylor’s diary I keep inside my cut—close to my heart. The wound is still fresh. The pain is still too real. I swallow back the tears that threaten and shake my head at Rookie.
“I can’t.” He shuts the door without a word, looking at me with understanding in his eyes. He knew I couldn’t do it. But he knew I had to try.
“You know you gotta do this one day, Shady. You can’t hide from it forever.”
I look around the porch, unable to stop the memories of me and Dirk standing in this very spot from resurfacing. My chest aches and my eyes burn as I think about Christmas here. Thanksgiving. Saylor’s sleepover. How at home they made me feel and how easy it was to think of it as mine. I’d never had a real home of my own. Now I do. And I can’t even walk inside.